


The Last of Us: Zootopia

by orphan_account



Category: The Last of Us, Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, Crossover, Gen, Post-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-08-08 15:01:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7762420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Judy and June, brought together by the harshness of a post pandemic world, must survive a brutal path across the Country.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Quarantine Zone I

She could feel the heat dancing on her face. The ranch house curled upward with the flames, swirling into the charcoal, star pocked sky. Everyone was running in myriad fashions, be it aflame, screaming or shouting inarticulate gibberish in tones of sandpaper. Bunnyburrow was running from something. Except for her, as she stared at her confounding and obscure home.

The rabbit was crying, but didn't know why. Her knees buckled, planting her on dusty ground as a mess of hitching breaths that fell on deaf ears. Sound had been reduced to a shallow ringing, one the escalated with every passing second. She yanked on her ears and screamed, but nothing was born of it. The house still burned, the thickness of the smoke blanketing her, snuffing out any opportunity to breath. She writhed on the ground, hands grasping at her throat soon turning to claws. Blood flowed from the newly opened wounds, rationality soon taking hold as she flipped herself onto her belly and crawled toward the home turned rising sun.

A figure stood, mingling with flames as it jerked wildly. It wasn't natural. She could smell it’s slowly roasting flesh.

###  **Summer 2038**

Judy took a second, eyes wide and breath labored. Her hands gripped the coarse bedding fiercely in irregular beats before pushing her into a seated position. Everything swam for a second as she surveyed the room. The aligned bunks around her consumed mostly by black curtain, occasionally streaked by bands of yellow light, squeezing themselves through window blinds. _I can taste it_ , she thought, mouth twisting at the sensation. Judy swung off the bunk with a groan and dropped onto marred linoleum, fanning herself with tank top collar. Everyone still slept, as she preferred her mornings to be spent alone. She dug into the beaten footlocker at her bedside, retrieving a simple watch which ticked its way toward five thirty am. Strapping that on to her wrist, along with a pistol holster and its accompanying firearm at her side, plastic buckle clicking noisily.

The barracks, for the most part, were void of activity. Save for a disgruntled wolf that pushed past her and the occasional running of a faucet or shower, the re-purposed middle school was silent. Sunrise filled the halls outside of the dorm, painting everything from checkered floor to teal lockers a bright orange. The light warmed Judy’s back, melting a bit of her tension, despite none of it surfacing in her stone rendered expression. A few rounded corners led the rabbit to the school cafeteria, sparsely populated with a few other early birds dining on trays of bread heels and kidney beans. Some flats were eating something more brown than green, making her stomach flip a bit. _Beans and bread, breakfast of champions._

Judy settled the vacant end of a table populated by a sulking whitetail with his more chipper giraffe companion, who chattered incessantly. Upon further inspection, the beans that floated in her bowl were covered in a thin film of grease for some reason, unsure if they could be attributed to the discovery of the odd bits of barely here and there. The bread, though coarse, was blessedly warm. The mess filled steadily as she ate. Every bite of it was careful savored, consumed with a deliberate slowness. As the bowl emptied, the volume of her surroundings grew and, before she could empty it, she found herself surrounded by plethora of chattering flats and sharps.

Somehow, the seat parallel from her remained empty, only becoming apparent when a rather large lion claimed it. Despite his broad build, the lion’s face seemed green to June. Not a single grey hair touched his blonde mane, nor wrinkle kiss the corners of his eyes. They almost never took in strays, much of the Quarantine Zone’s defense composed mostly of former national guard, law enforcement, and those drafted in the first few months. It showed, in the abundance of gray and white among her comrades faces, in the hardness of their features and the dilution of any strong emotion. Recruitment was rare, due to the consistency of their numbers and the renewed tension between the military and the general populace. It wouldn't be too much of a stretch to mistake him for a teenager

Judy could almost feel a spanner being thrown into her inner machinations as the lion prompted her.“April...” _You’ve gotta be…_

He couldn’t read anything in those pale, violet eyes. Nor could Judy within his rich, brown ones. She soon responded, slightly amused. “Nineteenth.”

No discernible response was telegraphed, only the big cat’s departure, leaving a large steaming bowl. Beneath it, a folded scrap of paper, which Judy took upon her own departure, dumping her bowl and utensils in a metal bin with the like. Her exit was largely ignored, though her entrance back into the dorm was met with a few acknowledging grunts by the remaining occupants. Judy gave a shallow nod before taking a seat at her bunk, unfolding the neat scrap of paper and reading its contents:

_Park 10 min Dont be late_

Her nose crinkled a bit at the added anecdote, though throwing it off largely as a rookie's hubris. Still, she’d rather not risk it and suited up in her patrol gear, comprised of an almost threadbare woodland BDU that contrasted heavily with her charcoal tactical vest. They took whatever they could in the Zone, didn't matter what it was as long as it worked. Still, it was oddly pleasing to see the bright white SWAT lettering emblazoned on the front. _Not a cop anymore Jude_ , she reminded herself, slightly saddened by the fact.

Slinging a pack over her shoulder, she retrieved a laminated yellow coupon that clung to the foot locker’s bottom. _Idiots_ , Judy surmised, tucking the ticket into her vest pocket. While not needing it at the moment, her rifle was essential patrol gear, so picking it up after her little excursion was vital. The fact Lou implemented the lockup system just irked her, despite her seeing his reasoning soundly. Shrugging off the irritation, the rabbit made way to leave, before a voice beckoned to her.

With a sigh, she about faced to the owner, whose company of fellow timber-wolves stopped and stared. The voice’s owner, a melanistic wolf who rested his plaster encased foot on a pillow, had smile full of teeth. Something was in his balled fist, though Judy paid it little mind, crossing her arms in his presence.

“Mind if ya pick me up some aspirin at commissary,”the wolf asked, handing the rabbit multicolored ration coupons. “I’ll owe ya.”

“Owe me what?” Judy inquired, making no motion to indicate agreement. “You don’t have a great track record when I come to collect, Bill.”

“Outta the goodness of your heart?” Bill implored, placing a hand on his chest.

Judy remained silent.

The wolf sighed. “Alright, alright. Favor for a favor.” He dug underneath his mattress, producing a aluminum hip flask. “This” -he shook it, contents sloshing audibly- “when you come back. Deal?”

Judy never really cared for alcohol, but its value was universally accepted, worth more than gold these days. Still skeptical, she extended a hand. “Lemme see.”

“If it's a sniff you want,” he uncorked the flask and wafted the scent her way. Yep, definitely authentic.

“Fine,” the rabbit finally agreed, taking the coupons and stuffing them into her vest pocket. “Got other stuff on the agenda today, so don't expect a speedy delivery.”

“Got all day, Jude,” Bill replied, breath slightly elongating _Jude._

Judy smiled at that. “Think you mistake our relationship, Bill.”

“Do I?”

The smile died. “You do.” Any other quip that would have surfaced died, Bill’s energy noticeably drained, his smirk rendered neutral. That's how she left the dorm, with a pocketful of coupons and the subtle urge to punch something. The school’s park melted the compulsion a bit, replacing it with a slight melancholy. The tar playground was sandwiched between the school itself and a brownstone at the right. A rusted chain link fence closed off the rest, its entrances and much of the lower portion of the links covered in neatly placed metal sheet, with the top covered in barbed wire. A makeshift watchtower sat at the northeast corner, it's dead searchlight unoccupied.

Much of the grounds were blanketed in a diluted darkness, sun still struggling to find its place above. This gave the typical ground devices a haunting look, steel long rust eaten and home to various weeds. Judy walked toward the center, running a hand over the coarse bars of a roundabout. A slight push prompted an unsettling screech, so she pushed away, shaking off the chills. 

“Still surprised I had a rabbit contact,” a familiar voice mused.

Judy shrugged, turning to meet the lion resting beside the double doors. “Why’s that?”

He pushed off the wall, only gesturing at her with an expectant look. “Seriously?”

She placed a hand on her hip. “Who are you, anyway?”

“To you, no one,” he replied, taking a step toward her. “Only on delivery.”

“Only ask ‘cause-”

A brown package landed between them with a dull thud. “You really shouldn’t. Better this way.” The lion made way to leave, before adding a small anecdote. “He said meet ‘em at noon, his place. And don’t be late, rabbit.”

Judy kept silent, watching him leave with a furrowed brow. She picked up the package and hefted it, tearing it open. Rolled up into a neat and thick wad, her payment would've fallen if not deftly caught and shoved into her vest in one smooth motion. Inspection the contents did not yield much more, just a blank pink slip which found home in her pack. Discarding the brown paper, she took a glance at her watch. _Almost six. Making good time._

Structure was loose among their ranks. The more people got used to each other, the less boundaries were crossed and the need for a rigid military hierarchy waned. What you were at the start of the Outbreak was more or less what you were now, though more loosely defined as commendations and rank held little sway nowadays. It was mostly what other people said about that kept you up at place of power, respect really. Judy was mostly invisible, took orders and never questioned them. Though her interpretation of them usually prompted conflict, as patrolling down Bleater Street would find her on the same street sure, but suspiciously close to certain seedier residences and alleyways. True, she’d never been caught, but her superiors had their suspicions, something she’d rather not inflame by missing assignment.

After quick run by the commissary, Judy strode into the school's gymnasium. The place was slowly filling, soldiers lining up at the lotto tables by order of last name. Though seemingly random to the recipients, assignments were largely cyclic. If one guy manned watch one day, maybe he’ll do patrol the next, while someone else scouting might then take his place at watch and so on. The garrison commander, a lieutenant most had taken to simply calling Lou, kept tabs on this cycle. Though his methods at ascertaining who goes where hasn’t really been pinned. Nothing big has threatened the Zone under his command, so no one argued.

Judy took a spot on the G through L line, behind a immense hyena. Several minutes passed before she was up, giving a small nod to the lamb behind the collapsible table.

The lamb didn’t return the courtesy. “Last name?”

“H-Oh. Hopps.”

The lamb sifted through a stack of freshly printed papers, wringing one from the pile and reading its contents. “Hopps,” she handed her the document. “Scout. Northside.”

Judy did her best to conceal her surprise, taking the document with only a dash of annoyance. This complicates things. The ticket said to report in an hour, so unless court martial was a sacrifice she was willing to make, business would have to wait. He’d have to accept it, as their exchanges were really only possible due to her recent lucky streak with the lotto. Though after a payment…

She wrestled with the idea and the possible consequences for awhile, until reaching the lock up. It was really just one of the larger maintenance closets retrofitted with a thick, shuttered metal door. Her acquaintance was their, looking over his newly collected piece. Oddly, it was a rather mint looking assault rifle, though almost as large as her to accommodate his size. Judy choose to pay him no mind, knocking on the shutter.

A disgruntled skunk heeded the sound, pulling the shutter aside. He merely gave an expectant look, Judy passing him her ticket. He disappeared for a moment before reappearing with a simple, cut down bolt action. “Here.” He growled, almost tossing the rifle to the rabbit.

She caught it deftly, throwing a searing glare at the skunk before he disappeared behind the shutters with a hiss. Judy checked the arm, noting only a few new scuffs and scrapes on the dark, lacquered body. Everything else was pretty rigid and the sights were in order, so she slung it over her shoulder. She would’ve made way back to the dorms if not for the cat in her way.

“Dropped this,” he said, pushing a slip of paper into her vest before leaving. He was gone before a response could be relayed. She unfolded the slip, which turned out to be an assignment. Not one for taking chances today huh, the rabbit thought, crumpling the original and tossing it in a nearby bin, must be important. With a sigh, Judy tucked away the slip and returned to the dorms, much to Bill’s surprise. His posse was gone, leaving him to some leather bound book that found rest on his lap upon Judy's arrival.

“Sooner than I expected, Hopps,” the wolf greeted her with a toothless smile.

“Me too,” she tossed him the bottle, which he caught clumsily.

After quick examination, he let a small breath escape. “You can’t-”

“Aspirin. I got it.” Judy interrupted, extending a palm. “Pony up.”

Bill snarled at this. “Fucking baby aspirin?! You really fuckin-”

Judy closed the gap between them in a flash, rewarding Bill with a busted lip and a pistol shoved into his neck. “Really hate to do this, Bill. Just tired of the scrimping is all.”

“Crazy bitch!” He spat, raising his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine Jesus! Just-” He gestured at the cast Judy had a knee to. She pushed off him roughly, holstering her pistol. While he recuperated, Judy swiftly dug under his mattress, retrieving the flask.

“Pleasure, Bill,” Judy quipped, tucking the flask into her pocket, heading out.

“All mine, rabbit,” Bill groaned, massaging his jaw.


	2. The Quarantine Zone II

###  **Summer 2038**

“How’s the line?” Nick asked Finnick, the diminutive fennec stomping into the apartment, hands cradled in a faded, grey hoodie’s pockets.

“You can guess,” Finn said, slapping a stack of cards on the coffee table.

Nick yawned, pushing up from his spot on the deflated comforter, eyeing Finn and the money with a quizzical look.

“Round the block or…”

“Shit,” Finn scoffed, taking a seat on the wooden chair opposite Nick. “I’d ‘ave stayed it’d ran to the Meadow. Its closed, running low again.”

Nick toyed with the bills idly, looking up at the clock that hung askew over their door. _Still got time. Honey could use a visit anyway._ He pushed of his seat and collected the bills, stuffing them into the breast pocket of his open, faded green flannel shirt. “So. Trip to the Garden?”

Finn’s head cocked slightly. “Plan on going alone?”

Nick gave the same surprised look. “Not coming?”

“Fuck that.”

Nick had a plethora of retorts he could’ve tossed, most condemning his friends lack of support. It was fennec’s eyes however, that stemmed the tide, that sudden flicker of a heavy darkness that he tried to hid with indifference. Nick simply shrugged, going to his bedroom. It was a ramshackle thing of peeling paint, a single foggy window, dusty furniture and a lone mattress. A few random articles populated the wide dresser that sat at the room's far side, mostly picture frames that Nick sat face down. With a bit of effort, the red fox had the dresser moved, revealing a rotted wood hole.

A ladder had been wedged into the small space, mostly to keep one from falling straight into the basement. The stench of mildew creeped into the air, Nick’s closer proximity almost making him gag. The faint slosh of water echoed into the room. _Really now? Interest is peaked._

The sudden slam of a door startled him, a twist of the head had him lay eyes on a certain fennec at his bedroom door. Finn tossed his partner a flashlight, which Nick caught gracefully. “Don’t trust your ass to get back in one piece.”

Nick smiled, placing a hand on the ladder. “Just a hop skip, no worries.”

“Shut up and go, fox,”

The descent was slow and arduous, the cramped space not allowing much movement, even the bend of the knee to climb down the rungs. Finn struggled less, thanks to his small size, but by the time their cones of light pierced the gloom of the basement, Nick’s legs ached. The taller of the two was the first to jump down, groaning at the chilling water that rose up to his ankles. He shined his light around the room, first noticing the busted metal tank at the far end, leaching water in slow, rhythmic beats.

“Boiler popped,” He relayed to Finn, who had just dropped in with a splash.

“G-great,” the fennec half growled, half shivered, wading up to his partner, Finn almost half submerged.

Nick took a second to find a braided cord that hung from the ceiling, pulling it sharply. The light bulb that dangled from the ceiling burst with life, lighting the room in a tight radius. The basement was bare, save its rotted boiler and a far flung maintenance locker that resided in the corner. Nick tore it open, looking through its contents slowly under flash light cone.

“What?” Finn asked, wadding up to Nick.

“Hm,” Nick looked down. “Nothing, nothing. Taking stock.” Nick pulled his leather bound pack over his shoulder, retrieving a pistol and serviced it before handing it to Finn. Nick found his own arm and performed similar inspection before stuffing it in his pants. The last thing that rested in the locker was a well preserved baseball bat in a makeshift leather sling. Finn took it in a flash, and secured it on his back.

Nick shrugged. “What would we do without it.”

“Probably be dead a dozen times over,” Finn spat back. “Not in the mood. Fucking hate going this way.”

Nick scoffed, shutting the locker and moving the plywood sheet beside it, revealing another hole. Beyond was a cavernous sewer.

“It was a joint effort, Wilde,” Finn spat, light peering down into the filth.

Nick chuckled at this, crawling through the hole onto rough, slimy concrete. “How so?”

The fennec followed. “You shot first! Going fucking Rambo and shit.”

“True,” Nick agreed, though soon sticking a fist under his chin in feigned ponderance. “But did I also incite that whole thing by stealing from them?”

Finn simply mumbled an expletive, walking beside his friend at a slight seethe.

“Exactly,”

The sewer system was a maze, advantageous for their exploits if anything got too hot.

Nick knew the place almost by heart, but not without a lot of trial and error the first time around. He’d taken the liberty to mark certain passages, colored chalk indicating a route to a specific locale, ones known almost exclusively to Nick and Finn. White and yellow lead to opposing ends of the Quarantine Zone, mostly used for the importation of certain, normally unattainable items. Red and orange emptied out into Zootopia proper, though were used rarely, only to get to the sister Zone downtown whenever they had something particularly hot to move. The freshest markings, the green, lead to the Garden. It was home to a doctor turned botanist, a greenhouse atop a red brick apartment building just outside the Zone.

They had only stumbled on Honey after a sour deal had blindsided them, losing all sense of direction. Since then, they maintained a sort of lopsided symbiosis. Coupons for food whenever the well behind the wall ran dry. _Been awhile since the last dry spell, Nick thought, wonder what she’s up to._

A few minutes down the green path deposited them at a maintenance door, which had been swung open.

“Making surprise visits?” Finn snided, though tinged with worry.

“Hm,” Nick dead panned, aiming his flashlight and pistol into the abyss. A step closer and a scent hit him. The red fox jumped back, shoving his muzzle into his arm. “Spores.”

Finn took a generous step backward. “Any other way?”

Nick kept silent, giving an apologetic look.

“Dammit,” Finnick cursed, putting a gun in his hand, extending an empty hand to Nick.

The red fox already had his leather pack ready, digging out a gas mask with an intricate, though worn painting of a phoenix on the brow, its wings curling around the bulbous eye sockets. FINN had been written in sharpie on the single filter.

Finn took it was one would take an injured infant, running a hand over the peeling paint as if they were wounds. “Cheap ass fuckin… Gotta touch this up at some point.”

Nick had already donned his mask, which was a much more plain affair. “With a hose?”

Finn chuckled, donning his own mask. “Fuck you.”

Still, Nick kept his firearm ready, stepping into the room carefully with silent steps. Much of the room was cracked, moldy concrete intersected by thick pipes on its eastern and western walls. Nothing but forgotten garbage littered the floor, though was markedly less wet than the sewer proper. Despite his masks filters, Nick still struggled against scent of decay and mildew, disturbed as his flashlight caught fine, dancing particles in the air. Finn was close behind, a subtle shake to his every step.

A set of small grated stairs lead up to hallway that bent westward, its walls laid with long dead, dripping copper. The duo kept their ears pricked, confined spaces were never a comfort.

“Think our ‘guest‘ brought friends?” Finn whispered, trailing Nick closely.

“Doubt it,” Nick sighed, taking a faster pace. “Would’ve heard ‘em by now.”

The hall ended around a corner at a closed door, their guest propped against. Though the body could’ve been easily identified as a goat, its head was a mangled mess of sprouting fungi. Tendrils of the pale, dry flesh hugged the metal door, effectively gluing the shriveled corpse to it. A thick cloud of spores clung to it, twinkling under flashlight.

“Ugh,” Nick groaned, holstering his pistol. “Ripe one.”

“A clicker?” Finn scratched his ear. “This far in?”

Nick grimaced, placing his hands on the corpse and pulled. The connecting flesh ripped like paper, going up in a cloud of dust as the corpse was pushed aside. The door eased open on it hinges, producing a grating screech. The air stood then, the duo standing in silence, listening for anything that might indicate they weren’t alone. Only shallow breaths and the steady _plip plip_ of water droplets greeted them.

Finn exhaled. “For some fucking blueberries, huh?”

Nick gave a toothless grin, exiting the room. “Yup.” Once Finn was beyond the exit, Nick shut it, tearing off his mask taking a deep breath. Nick stuffed it into his belt, and glanced at Finnick, who still wore his.

“Rather be sure.”

“Not that, just, your mask looks nice. Like the colors.”

Finn grunted, pushing past Nick. “Come on.”

Nick smiled, keeping pace with the fennec. “Seriously! Could you do mine?”

Finn raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Seriously, Finn.”

Finn chuckled. “The hell would you even want on it?”

Nick took a moment to ponder. “Dunno honestly. Hm.”

“How about this: you buy the paint- good stuff, acrylic -and I could whip something’ up.”

“Where’d I get that? Doubt they have that at general…”

Finn signaled a turn, which they took. “Got a guy. Tell you all about ‘em when we get back.”

Nick’s raised a brow. “You have a guy smuggling you art supplies?”

“Eh, idle hands an’ all. Gotta keep myself occupied.”

Nick shrugged. “True, true.”

Several more minutes passed before they reached a beacon. The above street side manhole cast white shafts into the depths, bringing to light their unsavory surroundings. A ladder stood under its light, aluminum sparsely speckled with rust.

Nick rolled up his dark, long sleeve and wrapped a hand around a rung. “Other end, Finn.”

Without question, the fennec provided aid. The device, at its full extent, reach the manhole effortlessly. Nick gave it a quick tug, the ladder shivered a bit but was all round still serviceable. Despite his knees crying for respite, Nick climbed to the top, placing a hand on the slickened metal cover. Breath held, he pushed up half an inch, surveying the streets above.

“Can’t hear anything,” Finn acknowledged quietly, beneath Nick by a foot.

“Nothing much to see either,” Nick grunted, sliding the cover over tar. The early morning sun almost blinded the two as they scampered onto the pavement. Topside was, to neither foxes surprise, unkempt. Rowhouses with rotted shingles ran up the entire block, vines dressed in emerald scales weaving themselves into the structures. Grass threatened to claim to laid asphalt and concrete, patches of the stuff pooling around large, jagged cracks which exposed hidden piping. The trees fought a similar battle, height almost dwarfing the apartments, plumage almost a storey in width, and its roots snaking their way under the sidewalks, creating miniature crags. This close to the Zone, not many cars populated the street, save only a rusted out frame here and there. 

Finn sat on the nearby curb, ripping off his mask. “Thank God,” he wheezed, taking a grateful breath.

“Come on,” Nick said, taking a seat beside the diminutive fox. “Wasn’t that bad.”

“The smell though,” Finn grimaced. “No fucking clue how you stand it. And that clicker…”

“Yeah.”

Finn scoffed. “Little more than weird, Wilde. Know its a fuckin’ labyrinth and everything, but our paths are always empty.”

Nick kept silent.

Finnick merely watched the swaying of leaves amidst the overgrowth, a sigh escaping his lips. “Could just mean one of us got lazy, covering the exits an’ shit.”

Nick remained silent, forearms hanging over spread knees.

The fennec let the thought sit for a second, placing his mask beside him. Nick took a glance at his partners slowly furrowing brow. Damnit.

Nick rose abruptly, palms open and arms bent slightly. “You can say it. Say it.”

“Stop,” Finn said, slight growl in his tone. “You know the only way this works is if we are one hundred fuckin’ percent. Right?”

“Think I running merch under your nose now?”

Finn shrugged. “Dunno. You tell me.”

“Ha,” Nick scoffed, crossing his arms.

“Nick. Talk.”

The red fox was on the verge of delivering a particularly crude rebuttal, though thought better of it as he remember who he was talking to. Both foxes had been through hell, seen the world crumble, and kissed death. Together. Didn’t feel right to leave Finn out to dry.

“Anything?”

Nick gave in. “Not making anything out of it, if that's what you're thinking.”

Finn let out a more confused than enraged growl. “What the fuck?! So you’ve-”

“Yes, I fucking have!” Nick tone marred by a slight uptick in primal rage.

Finn softened a bit. “Jesus, what even-” Clairvoyance gripped him for a second. “Shit. You can’t really be making dealings with them again?”

Nick gave a dry chuckle, letting his arms fall. “After last time, thought we’d burned that bridge to the ground. No, they came to me actually. Somehow have dirt on most our dealings.”

Finn flared for a second, choosing to let the embers burn to hear the rest.

“Want me to take a package from Savanna to Downtown, do that and all's forgotten.”

“I mean,” Finn struggled to find words. “How the fuck- How- Fuck!” The roar was surprisingly loud, almost deafening. The enraged fennec was on his feet, bat unslung into his palm.

“Finn,” Nick urged. “Get a-”

“How much?! How fucking much do they know?!” Finn struggled to contain himself, motioning to strike the curb but never fully acting on it.

“Enough for capital.” Nick answered, tone a odd mix of annoyance and gloom. “Queen herself gave me a rundown of our excursions- I mean she was telling me shit from ten years ago, Finn! This is real.”

“Bullshit!” Finn spat, pointing at Nick with the tip of his bat. “Bull-fucking-shit, Nick! She’s fucking with you, has to be! Fucking slimy ass-”

“It's important, Finn,”

“Oh, I couldn’t tell…” Finn simmered, knuckles threatening pop from its owners grip. “Its a matter of relation, isn’t it, knowing Marlene? ”

Nick gave a full bodied, almost disorienting laugh, melting the fennec’s anger immediately. “Stupid question.” _Stupid,_ stupid _fucking question..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't plan on making this shifting POV thing a habit, Judy is still the main focus. Regardless, next chapter is to feature June. Hope you'll like her.
> 
> This chapter was fueled by: George Baker - Little Green Bag


	3. The Quarantine Zone III

###  **Summer 2038**

“Oh, babe, I got you babe, I got you babe,” June let the words drip off her lips as a barely audible whisper. Her surroundings faded. Every sensory faculty that contributed nothing to let drums bish, trumpets blare, and a bass strum, died. For an instant, she could forget. Letting everything slid off her back for the most generously proportioned second. Everything still came back, consent void always. The ratty attic full of cobwebs and grey diluted darkness. The tape player in her tightly rung palm, her scratchy, borderline threadbare flannel shirt, the archaic symbol of a band that no one seemed to remember emblazoned on the olive t-shirt beneath. The cheetah that sat across from her, smoking a cigarette, wisps of grey smoke committed to a slow, sultry dance to the wood beams above. June hated the smell. The burning of dry, stale tobacco cutting through the air like freshly sharpened bayonets. She removed her yellow foam ended headphones with a slight glare aimed at him.

“You know,” the red fox said, pointing at the object of her displeasure. “Second hand smoke impedes brain development in children. So...”

The cheetah gave her a lazy glance, gravelly chuckle mingling with grey exhaust. His worn face was rendered with amusement. “What the hell does she want with you?”

June crossed her arms, glare still firm. “Ahem.” She threw a subtle shoulder at the fresh puff of smoke that crawled from his mouth.

The cheetah smiled, taking a deliberate liberty with his next drag, savoring the sensation when the filter departed his lips. Smoke blasted out of his nostrils with the following exhale.

 _Fuck you too_ , June kept to herself, shifting her back to him, parting the attic window curtains. The wall seemed smaller from here, the grey concrete structure sporting moss and invasive vines, whose slender blades grew thick and sailed in the afternoon breeze. Soldiers patrolled atop it, almost entirely composed of meds, their sniper rifles of various make firmly clamped. Beyond it, trees waved at her, throwing their armored limbs above the walls with a confidence unknown to the fox. The massive structures of opaque glass and grown over concrete loomed beyond. Highlighting the long abandoned financial district where the buildings of gluttonous size and far reaching heights. The red-gold citadel at its heart stood above all others, curves just as organic as its cousins, seemingly weaving itself skyward. A sister of smaller stature and grandeur, rested against spire, providing ample support and refusing to depart an inch.

Not much happened below, the occasional resident busing on with a quickened pace, throwing dirty glances at military patrols. The building she sat in was in an older part of Savanna, mostly residential, corners capped by bordered up bodegas and barbershops. The canvas overheads, color long faded, were mared with various graffiti:

__

_Smd_

__

_You die before we **STARVE!**_

__

_FIND THE LIGHT_

__

_FUCK FEDRA!_

__

On and on it with went with these questionable or fiery statements, though all usually aiming hostility at the Military or FEDRA. The sudden, faint scent of burnt paper buffeted her. The cheetah stood over her and, without word, yanked the curtains closed. “Hey! I w-”

“Being a dumbass?” He cut her off. “Yes, yes you were.”

Before he could realize it, his cigarette was gone in a blur of russet. He threw his arms out to grab the thief, but June slinked off the flat chest. He rotated one hundred eighty degrees, the fox was several feet away, putting out the cigarette on a wooden beam.

“You fucking- Ah!” He growled, charging her.

_Oh shit._ June took out a five inch switch blade, grounding herself. Certainly the comparatively diminutive fox would’ve been thrown to the ground, the enraged feline nearly two times her size. What did stop him mid-stride, with only a foot between them, was a loud rasp of knuckle on wood. Nothing but labored breaths filled the room, the two staring at each other with an air of relief about them, though tinged with emotions still fresh a simmering. June could feel her heart beating, thumping in her ear drums incessantly.

It took a moment for the cheetah to realize the knife in her palm. “Gonna stab me?”

“W-wel-” June cracked, coughing into her palm. “Well?”

“Hm,” He stood up rigidly, heading down the stairs after a second, louder knock cut through the room. June retracted the blade and slipped it into her back pocket with a shaky hand. After a series of deep breaths and a seat back by the window, she found her heart beating normally. She leaned over, retrieving the pack resting beside the chest and stuffed her tape player away. June sat there for a bit longer than she’d like, pack on her back and ready to depart. It was wasn’t exactly quiet, down the set stairs that lead to the house proper. Marlene was there, the wolverine’s stern, calculated verse hard to misplace. Oddly, it was flavored with a dash of frustration, something that seldom found her. At least for as long June had known her, anyway.

“...relieved, Kevin.” Marlene said, June having trouble pick words through the floorboards.

“...sure you don’t…” the cheetah responded, sounding a bit guilty.

“...fine, don’t…”

“...right, good luck with…”

June was ready to greet a rugged, though articulate wolverine and a Firefly entourage with nothing but good news and tidings. She never expected a soldier to waltz in, a rabbit no less. She’d been through a bit of a scuffle, her camo shirt and pants ruffled and torn in places, her open collar dotted with blood from a busted lower lip. Other than that, she was unarmed and breathing raggedly.

“Jesus,” June said, clutching a crossed leg slightly tighter.

The rabbit glanced at her wordlessly, before a being ushered further into the attic by a disgruntled boar. Marlene followed, sporting a open gash across her temple.

“Holy shit!” the fox exclaimed, beside the wolverine in a near instant. “What happened? Are you-”

Marlene waved away the teenagers grasping hands. ”Fine June, I’m fine.”

June blew a disapproving _pft._ “What the hell happened? You have a prisoner, your bleeding an-” She peered over the wolverine’s shoulders. “Where’s everyone el-”

Marlene raised a hand, silencing the jabbering fox, whose ears flattened against her skull. She threw a glance at the chest and June, who took a seat immediately, though now unable to keep still and stroking her bushy tail in smooth, erratic motions. Marlene pulled up a weathered wooden stool, it creaking audibly under her weight.

June raised her hands, expression laden with expectancy.

“I-” Marlene struggled to choke out the words for a moment. “I can’t come with you.”  
_No_. Everything about the fox before the Firefly queen seemed to deflate, illusion fortified by the sudden slant of her shoulders. Words seemed to fail June, nothing she’d wanted to say seemed actually come out of her mouth. _You're leaving me? What…_

Marlene pulled June back to the conversation, her hand consuming the fox’s. “This is not how I wanted things to go down. Things at the drop off aren’t doing so hot and…”

“So,” June said, with feigned neutrality. “What happens now?”

“The plan,” Marlene encased the fox’s hand into her larger ones. “Is still on. Just had to make some minor revisions.”

June huffed at that, ripping her hand away and pointing at the rabbit at the far end of the attic. “She part of this new plan?” The rabbit didn’t acknowledge the comment, sitting atop a cardboard box quietly brooding beside her boar guard.

Marlene sighed. “Dunno yet, though she knows something about my contact. He’ll be taking you to the drop off.”

Why not just have one of your guys take me, June would’ve said, though remembering her recent encounter with one of Marlene's men. She threw the thought away, letting her crossed legs fall over the chest. “Who is he?”

“Smuggler,” the wolverine answered, voiced tinged with slight annoyance. “Knows Savana inside and out. He’s willing to help.”

June raised an eyebrow. “A smuggler? Just like that, some random guy?”

“Known him for awhile. Not exactly trustworthy, but…” Marlene grew a bit distant, rising from her stool and throwing a shoulder at the rabbit. “Wasn’t at his place, only her.”

June drew her gaze to the rabbit, whose attention was drawn by dusty floorboards. The occasional drop of blood fell from her lip, the rabbit making no attempt to stem the tide. She was no stranger to dirty soldiers, though this rabbit did not seem to look the part of morally bankrupt guardsmen. June turned back to Marlene. “When am I leaving?”

Marlene seemed to shrug off the question, affixed on her prisoner. She walked over to the sulking rabbit, looking at her with stark coldness. Surprisingly, the rabbit looked up, face deadened and eyes half lidded with lack meaningful acknowledgement of her company.

“What?” she let the word elongate as it past her lips.

“Gunna talk?”

“Am I?” the rabbits candid tone didn’t seem please the boar, whose sudden advance was only quelled by a raised wolverine palm. “Fuck you.”

Marlene remained silent.

“Soon as I open my mouth, you put a bullet in my head right after,” there was a slight fire in her voice now. “So, again, fuck yo-”

Even June couldn’t see the pistol whip out from Marlene’s jean jacket, the butt cracking the rabbit hard, knocking her off the box. The wolverine aimed the arm at the rabbit, who writhed a bit. “What if I feel like taking chances? Huh? What then?”

The rabbit didn't give a response, eyes shut in a pained expression and consumed by barely audible half baked expletives. Her eyes opened as she writhed on her side, getting much more than a glimpse at June. They locked for a second, pale lilac picking through every fibre, every component of her being. Moments passed before the rabbit’s eyes grew into saucers.

A pistol hammer cocked.

“Who's that?” the rabbit asked, pointing at the fox and paying little mind to the barrel against her temple. June furrowed her brows, clutching her backpack straps. _Don’t know me._

Marlene was ready to deliver another strike, pistol reared and stopped mid swing by a single word. “Wait!” For reasons foreign to June, the wolverine complied, still keeping her pistol at the ready. “I can find him for you.”

Marlene scoffed, choosing instead to place the barrel at her temple.

“He has route,” the rabbit spat, annoyed and frustrated. “Sewers underground that only me and him know about. I can find him.”

“From the goodness of your heart?” Marlene mocked.

The rabbit pushed the gun away, pointing at June. “Don’t bullshit me. I can see it.”

The wolverine relented, rage thawing as she looked down at her captive with newly rendered confusion. 

“Look,” the rabbit grunted as she rose, keeping a hand up to assure compliance. “Nick’s known me for…”

After that, everything just fell away into a blurry soup. June wrestled with the idea, the name that dropped itself into the attic like a hydrogen bomb. A name she had only heard half a dozen times in her entire life, a name that eluded category by any physical entity, only vague societal convention. And elicited a burning, acidic anger that threatened to leech its way from under her fur with nothing but immaterial claws and knives of pure, unbridled fury. Her mouth opened before clarity joined her, to generate the very real handshake between wolverine and rabbit.

“He’s your contact?!” June spat through gritted teeth, now on her feet.

Marlene sighed, breaking the handshake and turning to the boar. “Give…”

“Hopps.” the rabbit supplied, tapping the embroidered patch on one of her breast pockets.

“...Hopps her gear. I’ll be right with you.” Marlene walked over to June, placing a hand on the troubled youth’s shoulder. “Come on.” June would’ve resisted, but the coolness in the wolverines tone shut any attempt to rip away at this conception. The fox compiled, the duo walking taking the landing down to house proper. The doorway emptied them out into a hallway, walls of bleached, peeling wallpaper swaying subtly with the shut of the attic door.

June simply looked at the wolverine expectantly, arms bend and palms open. “Were you gonna tell me at any point? At all?”

Marlene crossed her arms. “Was gonna let him do it himself.”

“Of all fucking people, Nick is the one-”

“Most likely to get you from one end of the city to the next in one piece,” Marlene interrupted, with a certain fire. June backed up a bit, expression construed with disbelief, breaching the hardness of Marlene's gaze. “June, you don’t have to like this. All you have to do is bear it, just like any other day.”

“Yeah,” June said, deflated. “I get ya. Just- Ugh.”

Marlene placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll be waiting on the other side. Alright?”

The honesty was palpable, the fox latching onto the words as if they were bond, looking up into Marlene’s amber eyes. “Better be,” she stated, embracing the wolverine warmly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The similar lengths between my last few chapters is purely coincidental, they will vary as the story goes on most likely. Got a few kudos since the last chapter went up, I'd love to know why! Feedback will never be ignored.
> 
> This chapter was fueled by: Post Modern Jukebox - Thrift Shop (Bart & Baker Remix)


	4. The Quarantine Zone IV

###  **Summer 2038**

“Find that hard to believe,” Marlene groaned under the metal shutter’s weight, her hands laying the steel sheet down in strained breaths, her caution still allotting the gate an obnoxious and grating screech.

“It’s true,“ Judy assured, waiting for the wolverine to finish shaking out her limbs. “At least for awhile. Pinned on his badge myself.” _Have trouble believing it myself actually…_

Marlene joined the rabbit, “Hm, take your word on it.” Amidst the rubble and debris, it was plain to see the laundromat had seen its fair share of better days. The ceiling seemed to pour into the building below, concrete, gravel, and an air conditioning unit laying claim to the rays of light that poured from collapsed roof. The washing machines proved a fertile breeding ground for an assortment of dandelions, ferns, and even the odd sapling. Their glass hatches stood open, emerald ivy tightly caressing the opaque glass. Ruined laundry carts bled iron oxide across the gray linoleum, their thoroughly rotted contents sporting a virgin coat of moss.

Judy swore she could hear a bird, the songs mingling amidst the sunshine and warm summer air. Their footsteps felt like a violation, a place so thoroughly immersed in the tranquility that the vegetation seemed to protest the invasion, shivering with the buffets of wind. Light diminished the further down they traversed, laundromat essentially a hallway with mechanical walls. It ended with a bend in these metal walls, the machines stretching a bit farther westward to accommodate a few dryers that sat in the gray of mingling daylight.

“The kit,” Judy stopped by the rows. “How’d you come by her anyway?”

Marlene shrugged. “Any of your business?”

“Suppose not.”

The dryers traveled northward before ending at an emergency exit. Marlene, who’d taken lead, gave the red bar a forceful push. Both parties strained but did neither yield. Judy jumped in without prompt and, together, induced an ear-grating howl from the defeated door upon its rusted hinges. Beyond was an asphalt lot, surrounded by a chainlink fence that served as the boundary between the laundromat and the overgrown lawns of the Savanna Projects. The tall, brick apartment blocks were banal things, their many windows fogged or broken.

“Name at least?” the rabbit implored, readying her rifle.

The wolverine groaned.

Judy surveyed the land beyond, bolt action readied.

“June,” Marlene supplied, with slight erk.

_Really?_ Judy felt her lips curl, but the click of her rifle's safety subdued the comment. Something was weaving between the buildings. A flicker of gray. A snapshot. “Down.”

The wolverine compiled. The pair took residence under a decommissioned SUV. Marlene didn’t say anything, peering over through the car door in an effort to get a visual. Judy rested her rifle on the on the front bumper, trying to discern a target from the sway of overzealous hedges and fluttering plastic bags. Her eyes tried to capture any sign of what she knew she saw, but her mind only gave her assumptions.

Nothing, the rabbit slunk back down and looked at Marlene. A pistol suffered under a vice grip, the Firefly queen stern though noticeably shaken. “Cat. Ain’t one of mine.”

“Shit,” Judy swore, peeking before ducking back down once again. “Scout probably. Likely not alone...” It took a moment for Judy to notice the Firefly's pistol. A particularly common nine millimeter, nothing about the weapon particularly noteworthy. Only its slant toward Judy’s abdomen.

Marlene’s stare was cold and piercing.

“Don’t-”

A pistol hammer cocked, eliciting a particularly painful memory. Despite the pleasant warmth in the air, it felt unbearably cold. Nothing but bated breath and singing flora. Against better judgment, Judy spread her arms slowly, placing her rifle between them. She kept her hands at her sides, though her ears twitched liberally, picking up an ever quickening song from beyond their cover. _Seven yards, closing. Stupid fucking…_

“I’m not-,” Judy bit her lip, pining for some vocabulary. “Alright, you need me. I’m not in a position-” A slight breeze brushed against her tall ears. Everything afterward was instantaneous. The rabbit's legs bent and discharged, throwing its owner backward into a wall of rough kevlar. The impact was hard, Judy’s vision exploding into thousands of small charcoal briquets. Each one pulsed to the beat of her heart.

“Fuck!” a coarse tongue assaulted her ear drum. Moments later Judy was skitting across the asphalt, propelled by a fist the size of her upper body. A shaken head, the rabbit recovered quickly, sidearm in her hand. A huge mountain cat populated her view of the laundromat, the soldier already on his feet. He got a look at her for the smallest instant, enough for the cat to express a faint glimmer of recognition. Her arm buckled from the force, its byproduct giving volume to the cat’s gray eyes. Judy felt loose, light headed. Still, she clasped her pistol in both hands now, sending several more rounds into the cat’s gut.

The force knocked him down hard, rifle skittering a foot beside him. Judy ran to his side, placing a round in his skull without a moment's hesitation. Tendrils of smoke danced from the gun barrel, dispersing into an immaterial sea full of echoes. Minutes ran into each other, not knowing what to do next in the surreality that surrounded her. _One day_ , she’d told herself for the longest time, _you were going to have to do this. Don’t think about it._ A thin crackle cut her perception in two, a skittish glance downward making the source known. She snatched the walkie-talkie.

With feigned composition, Judy pressed the receiver. “Say again?” The rabbit said in a mock impression, something near impossible to accomplish. She looked back to Marlene, who was looking through the soldier's pockets, currently inspecting his carbine. The wolverine looked up at her with a quizzical but wavering look.

The response was immediate. “ _Shots fired in your vicinity. What’s your status?_ ”

Press. “Fine,” she said without hesitation, “Heard it too. No visual contact. See anything on the Perch?”

Marlene was now at Judy’s side. She’d commandeered the soldier's carbine, weapon on her back on a nylon sling. A bolt action rifle stood between them, it’s butt firmly pressed against the ground with a hand nudging the barrel toward the Judy. “ _Negative_ ,” she took the rifle, remaining neutral. “ _You know the drill, Henry. Round back if you guys can’t find anything. Stay safe._ ”

“Will do,” she replied, suddenly chucking the device onto the roof of the building, letting out a sudden breath. Gravity applied to her maliciously. Despite her best attempts to suppress her emotion, Judy still found the odd breath ill-conceived. She placed a hand on her chest, steadying her breaths.

“Didn’t have to do that,” Marlene piped up, almost reluctantly.

_Vulture_ , Judy thought but said nothing, regaining her composure. She cast a subtle glare at Marlene. “Shut up.” the rabbit spat unflinchingly, throwing shoulder back down the lot.

Marlene didn’t comment, following close behind the rabbit. The rest of the way was largely clear, save the occasional paired or lone patrol. Numbers were so thin since the initial outbreak that, despite the mandatory conscription of youths, it saw scout patrols running alone or in duos. Almost never more, the position the riskiest in these barely tamed parts of the Zone. Several evasions amidst dense, eroding urban infrastructure lead them to an alley betwixt a barber shop and deli. 

A grown over pallet block their path.

“Help me with this,” Judy ordered with a subtle chill.

The wolverine complied, getting on the other side of the rotted wood. They pulled off with a sort of lopsided fineness, setting it down roughly. The chainlink fence beneath was as dilapidated as anything else, so a bright red bandanna that held the door shut drew eyes.

“Secure.” Marlene quipped. Something snapped in Judy just then. Whether is was the tonality of the wolverine's voice or the small, upward creep her cheeks, but she suddenly _hated this person._

“I wanna make one thing clear,” she spat with a certain heat, unraveling the bandana. “Maybe incompetence is just in you and your people's genes, but here's the thing-” -she tossed the cloth to the ground, and pushed open the gate- “-everything that comes out of my mouth, you fucking comply.”

The wolverine's small smile faded. 

“You nearly got me killed. Yourself killed. And where does the girl go after that? Hovering around some fucking terrorists? There's no judge or jury. You get put down.”

Marlene bristled at that. “My men-”

Judy within a hair's width of the wolverines faces, though the slight angle put a bit of strain on her neck. “Are fucking children. Three of your five ‘men’ went down before I even busted a lip. And you really trust them to keep June safe?”

Marlene remained silent.

“Are we clear?”

Marlene backed up a bit, eyes coming back down from their visible frustration to a lopsided neutral state. “Why do you even care?”

The rabbit heard the question, felt it on her back like a sack of bricks. But let it slide off, only giving the wolverine an expectant glare. 

Marlene however, caved. “Sure. Crystal.”

Upon resetting the pallet, the duo managed to remove the man cover. Nothing but void resided below, thanks to the shade supplied by the brownstones. Without prompt, the Firefly queen shined a flashlight into the depths, giving color to the dingy concrete below. Simultaneously making the stench much more apparent.

Judy gave the built in rungs a firm tug. “Secure enough.” She placed a foot on the second rung, motioned to make her descent, but her ears pricked up slightly.

“What?” Marlene asked, unslinging her pilfered carbine.

Judy couldn’t quite tell. It wasn’t a person, as its cyclic and inorganic noise. Almost like a hum, several of them. _Fuck me_. 

“Oh shit,” the wolverine paled.

“Move. Now!” Judy half-whispered making her way down with Marlene following close behind. Marlene struggled to pull the steel cover back, allowing her flashlight to fall under the pressure of ever-increasing intensity of internal combustion. The clatter of a corroded steel plate heralded the darkness that enveloped them with predictable zeal. Judy stumbled off the ladder after missing a rung, a wall catching her.

“Judy?” a thick voice cut through the darkness.

She almost hissed at the source for silence. The engines were muffled now, though too terribly close for comfort. Soon, they were accompanied by the grind of rubber on asphalt. Judy could hear the wolverine hitting the ladders end, shifting through the darkness and odd piece of unseen garbage for her tiny plastic torch.

“They saw me,” she almost whispered. “Tracked me. Had to.”

No sound entered the sewer, save the nearly imperceivable chuckle. _Again. All over again, he’s doing it to me._

The engines cut out before long, with the near synchronous buckle of opening car doors following. She wanted to run, run for a long time down this maze, not caring where she’d end up. A flickering light blinded her for a second, the steady cone retreating back down the concrete cavern. Its owner was distressed, made plane by her widened eyes and indecisive foot placement. Though, Judy swore that was a bit of pity in those hazel eyes.

The thought had nothing to do with what came next. They ran. Judy wasn’t too concerned with direction, just putting as much distance between her and them. She didn’t know these tunnels as well as her smuggler counterpart, but the handful of times she’d ventured below had all been central to one location. On the whim of a bouncing shaft of light, they bounded down where the thin strand of green lead. Soon, more shadow than light gave her a path, her head thumping with adrenaline. Everything was muffled, even the pain of her skitting across slickened stone from a misplaced foot.

Judy was automated, on her feet in a second and primed to sprint down a bend in the path. Something clasped her shoulder. She clenched a fist and faced the owner, breaths loud and primal.

“Stop!” Marlene’s voice beat on her eardrums like a hammer. “They didn’t-”

Judy punched her in the face.

It wasn’t enough to put Marlene in the dirt, but enough to knock the torch the ground as she struggled to gain her footing. Ghastly shadows rolled at their backs and on the walls, the wolverine’s brow furrowed and teeth partly bared. There were only a few possible ways the Firefly could’ve responded. With relent, pause, claw or a bullet. Judy expected the bullet.

The glares were twofold, the standoff flavored only by declining pants and their echoes throughout the silent halls. The rabbit’s aggression fell away before long, planting herself against a wall and looking up to the ceiling.

“I got a firing squad waiting for me,” _Because of you._

Marlene straightened her posture, looking down to the somber rabbit.

“Literally the ONLY fucking rabbit on staff. Can’t blend in. I can’t…” _You did this._

Marlene picked up the flashlight, standing awkwardly beside Judy.

Judy let out a breath. “You see those lines? The green one leads to where Nick went. Takes you just outside the wall. Just go down Grand, take a right on Rust and you're there. Brick house with a black roof.”

Marlene remained silent.

Judy remained silent. They both didn't talk for awhile. Straining their vision looking down the gray of the barely illuminated space.

“You're doing this for June.”

Judy laughed. “Doing it ‘cause you threatened to kill me.”

“And that's why you-”

“No. I killed him to not die. Reason why anyone does anything.” Judy’s tone was dripping with sarcasm, a feeling not known to her for a very long time. “I want answers.”

Marlene arched an eyebrow.

“When Nick just appeared in the Zone, I didn’t question it. I worked with him to make him stay,” Judy let her head fall, eyes fixated on the illuminated hall. “Felt like keeping things professional- Acting like nothing ever happened would keep him grounded.”

Marlene remained silent.

“Together to the end. My partner.”

Marlene slides down the wall, sitting about a foot away. “Why tell me this?”

Judy only looked on down the void, expression hardened.

Marlene struggled for something to say, going on with what little relatability they had. “I only knew Nick through June’s mother. From what she told me, he was a real piece of shit.”

Judy let out a small chuckle. “Hm.”

“Not exactly flattering, but she did have a few stories.”

Judy rolled her head in the queen’s direction “Like what?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hurray for not being a lazy cunt! More inbound, just don't expect me to spit these out three days at a time like before. Cocaine is a helluva drug...
> 
> This chapter was fueled by: Johnny Cash - Hurt and Caravan Palace - Black Betty (Cover)


End file.
